


Inversion

by facetofcathy



Series: Inversion [1]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bondage, D/s, Keptverse, Kink, M/M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In public and in private, Ben is not what anyone would call standard issue body slave, nor is Michael the proper master.  But what of Kyle?  (Contains issues of consent due to the nature of the alternate universe.  Read series summary for details.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inversion

**Author's Note:**

> This series is unfinished, and will likely remain that way.

  


Just outside the gallery, Michael stopped Ben's forward momentum with the lightest touch, and then he slowly slid his hand up Ben's chest. Ben watched Michael's fingers reach the ends of the torc, bridging the gap between the two braided metal rings that sat snugly against the base of his neck. Ben had chosen to wear an open-necked cream silk shirt that set off the burnished antique gold of the torc because he knew Michael wanted people to see it. He wanted them to see the gap between the two ends, to see that there was no lock and to know, if they were clever enough, that this was the ornament of a clan chieftain, not a slave's collar.

"Are you ready?" Michael asked.

"My Momma used to say–"

Michael rolled his eyes and swiftly interrupted. "Spare me the My Momma stories, Ben. Not tonight."

"Nervous?"

"A bit." Michael stepped back and worked his neck, trying to loosen tight muscles.

"Need me to calm you down, Master Michael?" Ben asked, not very seriously.

"Would love that, but..."

"Yeah, Master Michael, I hear you," Ben said, and then puffed out his chest a bit, putting on a show. "I am as ready as I'll ever be, so why don't we go perform for the nice people."

"None of them are what I'd call nice, Ben." Michael's voice was gaining a little steel.

"I know that, Master Michael; I knew that without you telling me."

Ben stepped in close to Michael's left side, and stayed a half-step behind as they walked toward the open doors to the gallery. They'd practiced this, starting in the bedroom and then in the living room and then on their morning jogs, until keeping the position was as natural for Ben as it would be for a trained body slave. Ben put a smile on his face as they moved into the crush of people. The bright lights of Toronto's literary high society had taken over the gallery for one night so they could have a nice view of the lake while they partied. He told himself to keep smiling and to keep his ears open and to relax and to act natural. This was no worse than the first time he'd walked into downtown Greeneville, Tennessee, alone and collarless, with a pocket full of Master Jan's money. He found he had to repeat himself a few times before the message took and the tension left his shoulders.

He stayed close enough that he could feel the heat of Michael's body while he listened to the hissed words that followed them through the room. _Field hand_, he heard a few times and wasn't surprised. _Old man_, had been expected, and even one shrill, _ew, look at the wrinkles_, wasn't too surprising, even though _he'd_ call them laugh lines and crow's feet. He caught a longer bit of conversation between a sleek, golden-haired body slave and his master; a man Ben recognized, after a little mental rummage through the faces he'd studied, as Tom McBeath.

"Nice ass, but how could you ever want to fuck something that old?" the slave said.

"Great ass," Master McBeath answered. "Push him down to fuck him, and who cares about the years on the face you don't have to look at."

"Master is wise," the slave answered in a smooth silky tone. "But why does Master Shanks have to bring it out in public?"

McBeath snorted and said, "Shanks wants everyone to know he's a pervert. I mean, really, it's no fun if no one but his house slaves are horrified."

Ben had to move on, he couldn't be seen to be eavesdropping, but McBeath's words marked him out for further attention.

Michael started out sticking to the plan well enough; he mingled and stopped to talk to people he actively loathed along with the ones that he merely disdained. He dropped a few political code phrases into the conversations to see if he got any bites, things like regional identity and economic independence, but all he got were polite smiles. Ben saw a few interested, rather than disdainful looks pointed his way, and he was coming around to the idea that they needed to concentrate on reformers rather than nationalists. Michael kept harping on the point that the nationalists were just Laborists who wanted to spell it with a u, and Ben was beginning to think he was correct.

Michael's good behaviour only lasted so long before he was bored with the people he had to talk to, and so, of course, Ben found him tucked into a corner with Master Nemec and Master Rennie discussing the latest hot new novelist. Ben slid back into place at Michael's side, handing him a glass of whiskey and taking a long drink from his own glass. "Damn, how do you drink this stuff, Master Michael?" he said, making a face at the very expensive imported scotch.

"No bourbon again?" Michael asked with a grin.

"No," Ben said, genuinely aggrieved, "and it's not proper, not having any decent drink at a swank do like this."

"I'm not sure the Literary Society of Toronto shares your ideas on propriety," Master Nemec said.

"I'm sure they don't," Master Rennie said, "but they only really care if his Master's dues check bounces."

Master Rennie's and Master Nemec's body slaves returned from an extended absence that Ben assumed had involved time spent primping in the female slaves' washroom. The four of them performed a practiced pantomime where the men pretended that they couldn't tell the two slaves apart. The slaves giggled and played along, posing in their matching dresses and stylish platinum collars. Ben used the commotion they were causing to ease his hand down to could grope Michael's ass unobserved. Michael maintained a bland look, feigning patience with the antics of his friends, while he pressed back into Ben's hand. Ben smiled into his whiskey glass; they wouldn't be staying much longer.

Their ride home was silent. The chauffeur was an old family slave who knew lots of other old family slaves, and Michael wasn't comfortable speaking in his hearing about anything consequential. The caution was wise, and Ben was happy enough to not bother with a post mortem on the evening; they hadn't really learned anything useful.

They continued their silent companionship in the elevator and in through the door to Michael's penthouse where they were met in the foyer by Kyle, on his knees in the centre of the tile floor, head bowed, the perfect picture of a deferential body slave. Ben figured he'd been watching the closed circuit feed of the lobby from the comfort of his bed, waiting for them to arrive home. He was not quite naked, that would be too impudent, but the bare skiff of clothing on his body left nothing to the imagination. Kyle really was a perfect specimen, sleek, polished, and with skin just tan enough to look golden in the dim light and set off the simple steel collar around his neck. He was lithe, but not too slender or too soft, and his lips easily twisted out of their deferential smile and into a sneer whenever he was alone with Ben.

Michael didn't show any sign of exasperation, but that was likely due to Ben's fingers beating out a tattoo of warning on his back, rather than any innate caution. "I won't require your services tonight, Kyle," Michael said quietly and firmly, "Why don't you run along to bed."

"Master is wise," Kyle said in a soft voice. He rose to his feet, keeping his eyes downcast as he turned and walked silently away.

Ben had made the mistake once of telling Kyle, in a tone that invited him to share the joke, that if Ben ever had any trouble getting Master Michael out of his pants he'd be sure to call. Kyle had glared pure hatred at him for his trouble, and Ben hadn't ever made the mistake of thinking the kid had a sense of humour after that.

"Don't say it," Michael said when Kyle had left.

"Will too. Someone's got to knock some sense into you. Once a week, tops, is all you need to do; just hold your nose and fuck the damn kid. Hell, it's not like he's horrible to look at, Master Michael."

"Not talking about it." Michael tugged on his hand and led him to their bedroom.

Ben let the subject drop; he knew the kid needed to be dealt with, but Michael was a stubborn bastard who wouldn't listen once his mind was made up. There were ways around that stubbornness though, and Ben fancied that he knew most of them by now. He followed Michael meekly enough and locked the bedroom door behind them.

Michael turned, and his face was suffused with a look of hot desperate need, and Ben grabbed Michael's wrists in his hands and spun him around and slammed him into the door, using the full weight of his body to pin him against the solid wood. Michael was hard and flushed and nearly panting with the want that always seemed to be simmering under the surface. Ben transferred Michael's wrists to a one-handed grip and used his free hand to grope him at will. "You stink like a whore, Master Michael," Ben whispered into his ear before bringing his teeth down hard on his lobe.

"Perfume from Corin's and Callum's girls," Michael said, and then he moaned when Ben bit him again.

"Go shower off the stink."

"Yeah, good idea. You want to come and scrub my back?" Michael looked up at him through his lashes and smirked a little.

Ben squeezed the bones of Michael's wrists together. "I'm not your fucking body slave, Master Michael. Scrub your own fucking back."

Michael smirked a little more rudely, but remained still, waiting for Ben to release him. Ben pulled him off the door and shoved him towards the bathroom, aiming a hard slap at his ass on the way by.

Ben striped his clothes off and folded them neatly before setting them in the laundry hamper. He was getting more accustomed to the richness of the clothes Michael bought for him, the furniture in the penthouse, even the softness of the bed they slept in, but he wasn't sure if he would ever come to take it all for granted; he wasn't sure that he wanted to, and he knew it wasn't a wise idea. He turned to the mirror in its heavy wooden frame and looked himself over. The torc Michael had put on him gleamed in the lamp light and was skin-warm to Ben's touch. Michael had refused to tell him if it was real or a reproduction, which inclined Ben to think it was the genuine article. Michael never liked to fail to conform in small ways. Ben grinned knowingly at his reflection, and decided to leave it on for a while. He watched his hand move from the torc to his cock. He was aroused, not fully, but getting there, and the sounds of Michael in the shower were helping nicely with that.

As expected, Michael didn't linger in the bathroom. He'd been thrumming with tension in the car on the drive home, and the confrontation with Kyle hadn't helped any. For all Michael liked to pretend he was indifferent to Kyle, Ben knew the kid made Michael uncomfortable. Ben was shaking his head at his reflection for thinking of a twenty-two year old trained body slave as a kid when Michael appeared beside him, and Michael was more than merely slightly aroused. "So not a cold shower then?" Ben said and gave Michael his best cheeky grin.

"No." Michael pressed himself close to Ben, his hand trailing up from Ben's chest to rest against the torc again.

He had made the right choice to leave it on. "You want to play a bit, or...?"

"No," Michael said, almost sharply, "I need–"

"I know what you need," Ben said. "On the bed, show me how you want it."

Michael stepped quickly to the bed, yanking the covers down to pool on the floor at the foot. He grabbed a pillow, his own, and tossed it to the centre of the bed. He flattened himself on his belly with the pillow under his hips, and spread his legs wide, drawing his knees up, but keeping them nearly flat to the bed. "I used to be able to do this without an inch of space between my knees and the bed, but–"

"But you ain't no fucking body slave either, Master Michael." Ben saw the glisten of lube on Michael's ass and made a small sound of appreciation before he said, "Thoughtful of you, Master Michael, to slick your ass up for me."

Michael wiggled that ass at him by way of an answer

Ben slicked his cock and crawled over Michael's body. He assumed Michael had stretched himself as much as he wanted, so Ben didn't mess around; he lined up his cock and pressed in deep. Michael groaned as he took him in, one long exhalation of sound that took all the tightness in his shoulders with it. This would be easier if Ben just grabbed Michael's hips and pulled his ass up into the air. He could fuck Michael as hard as they both liked that way, but sometimes Michael needed to be pressed flat and pounded hard, so that's what Ben gave him.

Ben loved this, loved letting go of everything and just fucking until he collapsed. He didn't even care if he came or not; he just needed his heart to pound and the sweat to pour off his body and his legs to burn. He had to admit that the sounds Michael made, never stopped making, while he took his pounding were pretty good too. "Take it, Master Michael," Ben said, bending low to whisper in Michael's ear. "Take it. Take it."

Michael moaned louder, which spurred Ben to find some more power he hadn't known he'd had. "Take it," he said again and again, putting everything he had into the last few thrusts. He let himself fall onto Michael when the orgasm ripped through him, his hips thrusting still, without his conscious control. He kept Michael pinned to the bed with his body, "Take it," he said again and set his teeth to the flesh at the base of Michael's neck. He bit hard, nearly drawing blood, while Michael moaned out the word _yes_ damn near loud enough to be heard by every slave in the house.

When thought for his own comfort filtered through the haze in his mind, Ben left off worrying the bite and rolled over onto his back. Michael almost immediately began trying to hump the pillow, so Ben rolled back up onto to his side and pressed down hard on Michael's ass with one hand. "Something you want, Master Michael?"

"Please, I need to come."

"Yeah? I could let you," Ben said, trying to sound like he was actually considering it. "I could let you hump that pillow like a horny teenager and then let you sleep with your head in your own spunk." Michael groaned in pleasure at the words and tried to buck up against Ben's hand. Ben pressed down harder. "Still, stay still," Ben said. "That's only fun if I have the energy to beat your ass while you do it." Michael groaned again and Ben lost his hold on his casual tone. His voice was far too gentle when he said, "Turn over, Master Michael."

Michael slowly stretched his legs out and rolled onto his back. Ben grabbed the pillow and tossed it at Michael so he could shove it under his head, and then he wrapped his hand around Michael's cock and squeezed once before starting to roughly jack him off. Ben knew exactly what Michael liked, how hard, how fast, so he gave it too him but just a little harder, and it didn't take long before Michael was arching off the bed, moaning quietly and whispering his thanks. Ben let him pant through the aftershocks for a moment before he moved his sticky fingers to Michael's mouth. Michael gripped Ben's wrist hard with both hands and greedily sucked his own come from Ben's fingers.

"Feel better?" Ben asked when he judged Michael was capable of speech.

"Yeah," Michael said and turned his head to smile at Ben. "Night was a bit of a bust, didn't hear much other than expressions of distaste over my choice in slaves." Michael touched Ben lightly on his face and then drew a finger along one arm of the torc, "We need to shower again," he said. "Take this off first."

"Yes, Master Michael."

Michael snorted at his obsequious tone. "I have a plan for tomorrow that should make up for today's irritations."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Michael said. "First, I plan to stay in bed until at least noon. I can't decide, though—I could see how long I could suck you before my jaw gives out, or I could see if I can make you come from just rimming you."

"That takes care of the morning then," Ben said, not bothering to express a preference for one plan over the other; there was no losing with a choice like that. "Afternoon?"

"Oh that's up to you. If you can find some energy, a beating would be nice, but no pressure."

Ben smiled, showing some teeth; a beating would be very nice. "I'll see what I can do, Master Michael. Right now, you need to get your ass out of this bed and come scrub my back." Ben rolled to his feet and was happy to see he could walk to the bathroom without wobbling.

"I thought we established that neither of us is a fucking body slave, Ben." Michael said petulantly, but followed along obediently enough.


End file.
